A Bright New Tomorrow
by ProcrastinatingPrincess
Summary: A child left on a door-stoop, desperate for love. A man tossed into prison without a trial, left with only his thoughts of revenge to keep him company. Five years have passed since that fateful day that Lord Voldemort walked into Godric's Hollow and murdered Lily and James Potter- five years of damage done to every soul they had ever touched. Time cannot erase all wounds. AU
1. The Storm

_AN: Yes, another Abused!Harry, Free!Sirius, Guilty!Remus story, but bare with me. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, and if you're interested, stick with me and we can ride this out together.  
>Triggers: Child Abuse. <em>

_Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am making no money from this. _

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><p><em>"History is always written by the winners. When two cultures clash, the loser is obliterated, and the winner writes the history books-books which glorify their own cause and disparage the conquered foe. As Napoleon once said, 'What is history, but a fable agreed upon?"<em>

― _Dan Brown__, __The Da Vinci Code_

**July 25th, 1986**

Lighting flashed across the sky, illuminating the night sky over Number 4 Privet Drive. The thunder roared after it, echoing off of the houses, rattling the windows, and hiding the small whimpers from the small cupboard under the stairs. A little boy was curled up under the stairs, bright green eyes filled with terrified tears. The bed was only covered in a thin sheet, no blanket in site, but that was alright, because the dirty clothes he had on were large enough for him to burrow almost completely into. An alarm went off near his head, making him jump again. Reaching small, bruised hands out, he pushed the button to quiet it.

_5:25 AM_

Throwing his thin legs out from under the covers, Little Harry Potter struggled to open his cupboard door. The light bruises all over his body certainly didn't help the fact, and neither did his malnourished body and lack of sleep. Yet, the six year old little boy never once complained. Perhaps, it was because it was all he knew. Perhaps, it was because his Uncle had drilled it into his head that he was a worthless 'freak'. Whatever the case, Harry moved around the kitchen as he did every morning, tears on his cheeks from the storm. He was scared, but after five years here at Number 4, he knew there would be no comfort for him.

By 6 o'clock, there was bacon sizzling on the stove as the tiny child tried to keep his skin from being burned by the hot grease. Toast was buttered on the table, along with a tall glass of orange juice.

"Why the devil isn't that bacon done, boy?" Vernon Dursley growled as he stomped into the kitchen, "You're suppose to have it done by the time I wake up." Sitting his fat ass down in the chair and starting to eat, "Don't burn that bacon, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied in a small voice, stumbling toward the table and carefully dishing the bacon onto the plate. He offered his Uncle a small smile, hoping that he'd done it right this time. Maybe his Uncle would offer him a small bit of praise like he gave to Dudley, but of course, he received none.

"Where's my coffee?" Vernon grunted, opening the newspaper that Harry had fetched from the front step for him. The big man barely even glanced at his nephew, deeming him unworthy of his time. This was routine by this point. He woke up and the little freak had his breakfast waiting for him. He left for work, leaving a long list of chores that Harry had better have gotten finished by the time he returned home. If he had, Harry would then make dinner and be given a small plate to take back to his closet. If he did not...well, at the very least, the ungrateful brat would have no dinner, "My coffee better be in my hand in the next five seconds, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry squeaked, rushing to the coffee pot. How could he have forgotten? Pouring the scalding liquid into the glass with trembling hands, a bit of the liquid hit his hand, burning his already scarred hands. Stepping toward the table, thunder rocked the house again. In an instant, the cup was falling from little hands, crashing against the floor and shattering on bare feet, "I-I-I'm s-sorry, sir!" The little boy was already cringing away as the large man shoved the chair back, rage in his eyes.

"You worthless piece of shit!" Vernon raged, hatred burning in his eyes as he raised his fist. The storm covered the sounds of fists pounding against soft flesh, and the cries of a little boy who only wanted to be loved.

_7: 23 AM_

Storms at Azkaban Prison were an exciting time for the mangy mutt pacing back and forth in his cell. Screams and moans and curses filled the halls, occasionally drowned out by the thunder. Dementors roamed the halls, keeping everyone in check, and aiding in the bone-cold shivers that reigned over everyone imprisoned within the already cold stone walls.

Reason number one-hundred and fifty seven why Sirius was grateful to be a dog. The animagus went back to his corner, gazing down at the newspapers that he'd had smuggled in for himself. They kept him sane, or as sane as anyone could be in this place. Perhaps he was only pushing off the inevitable, but Sirus Black had a reason to preserve, and that reason was the fact that out in the world, the person who had murdered his best friends was living. Someday...he would figure out how to avenge them.

With that thought in mind, he never expected visitors. His friends were dead or believed him to be a murderer of the worst kind. Who would visit him? His answer came when he saw a man standing at the edge of his cell door.

"Black," A cold voice sneered, "Is it really wise to be a dog?"

Sirius Black was a man a second later, bark like laughter spilling over rotting teeth, "Severus Snape," he rocked himself, still in the throes of laughter, "Have they invented a new form of torture for me? Sending greasy-"

"If you want to insult the man who has come to be your liberation, I can turn around and leave right now," Snape threatened coolly as another figure stepped around him. Now, Sirius fell silent, his eyes locked on the second man. All laughter was gone from his face, any color that may have been there, drained away.

"Remus."

Remus Lupin looked older than he had when Sirius had seen him last. He was thinner with more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. When his amber eyes rested on his old friend, Remus was filled with pain. Nodding his head ever so slightly, the wolf took a breath, "Hello, Sirius, ready to go home?"

"I don't even remember what home is, Remmy," Sirius confessed from the back of his cell, swallowing hard, "Were you serious when you said you'd come to liberate me, Snivellus? Or are you just being cruel?" His answer came in the form of the cell opening. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the open doorway. The only thing that had kept him from freedom for nearly five years, "Did you find the Rat?"

There was another clap of thunder, followed by more screams from the prisoners. Severus and Remus remained silent for a moment, and it weighed heavily on all three men. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Remus was finally the one to end it, walking into the cell and holding his hand out to Sirius, "Yes, but he got away. Let's get you out of here, Padfoot."

Another heavy moment passed, but then Sirius accepted the hand that had been offered to him, "Harry? Where is Harry? Do you have him? The Rat can't get to him, can he?" He stumbled against his old friend, shoulders shaking as relief flowed through him. Freedom. He was going to be free.

"In due time, Black. For now, I think we should get out of here before the dementors decide to feast on what may or may not be left of your soul." Severus interrupted, lip curled up in disgust at the site before him. Obviously, he felt he had better places to be.

Sirius growled, but held fast onto his friend. Without another word, the trio made their way from the eery and painful prison halls. Sirius was in a daze as the wizard guards at the front presented him with his clothing and his wand. The entire process seemingly a dream to a man who believed that his entire life would be spent in hiding. Exhaustion hit as soon as the malnourished, abused man stepped out of the building into the fresh air which smelled of the storm that had just finished. The sun was peeking through the clouds as Sirius Black, the free man, sunk to his knees, unconscious before he felt Remus's arms keeping his head from bashing off a rock.

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><p><em>9:00 AM<em>

Remus Lupin was a simple man, and he had been made even more so over the past five years. After the death of two of his best friends, followed immediately by the 'murder' and incarceration of his remaining two friends, the werewolf had gone into isolation. Of course he had attempted to get custody of Harry, but with his condition, and for some reason, Albus Dumbledore's insistence that Harry be sent to live with his blood-relations, Remus hadn't stood a chance. Living in this small cottage, Remus made his living as a tutor to young witches and wizards whose families weren't prejudiced enough to condemn him.

Amber eyes flicked toward his couch where a man he believed had been a traitor less than twenty-four hours before was still sleeping. Remus watched Sirius's concave chest rise and fall easily, his mangy hair hanging in his face. Grief at the time lost between them gnawed at his heart. Guilt that he hadn't trusted Sirius to never to betray James and Lily tying his stomach in knots.

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><p>"<em>Peter? But, you're dead!" Remus shouted, eyes wide at the small man who was crouched down behind a bush. The rat man had looked up in alarm, stuttering Remus's name before trying to bolt away, but it was too late. The damage had been done. It wasn't only Remus in that park, and the moment enough people had verified the story, everyone knew that the wrong man had been imprisoned. Remus had run right to Dumbledore, who had pulled the strings to get Sirius out of the Hell of a prison. Of course, he would have his trial now, but until then, he would be staying with Remus; a free man.<em>

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><p>"If you stare any harder, your eyes are going to fall out of your head, Remmy," Sirius mumbled, his eyes still closed. Immediately, Remus was out of the chair, moving toward the raven haired man. Before kneeling down, he pulled some vials out of his robes, helping Sirius up before practically shoving the contents down his old friend's throat.<p>

"What the bloody hell was that?" Sirius coughed, wiping his mouth with a dirty sleeve. Grey eyes rose to meet Remus's gaze, finding the other man's eyes filled with guilt. Somehow, Sirius could not find it in himself to try and make it disappear.

"Severus brewed them for you, Sirius. They're potions to help with your malnutrition as well as any injuries you hav-"

"Snivellus brewed them? What if the snake poisoned me, Remus? Since when do we accept potions from Death Eaters?" Sirius barked, tempted to rush toward the sink and expunge the potions, but that would require too much movement, and damn it, he was in pain.

"Snape isn't a Death Eater, Sirius," Remus sighed, gently pushing his friend back down, "You need to rest. Your body isn't strong yet. No one could be after five years in that _place." _The wolf insisted, meeting his friend's eyes, his own full of regret, "I should have known, Sirius. I should have realized that you would never betray our friends. I was lost in grief, and I was a coward." It was all said in a breath, like a leak in a balloon that just couldn't be stopped. Remus didn't realize there were tears on his cheeks until Sirius reached up to brush them away with trembling fingers.

Sirius wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and hit something, but as he looked at his friend, he knew that it wasn't just Azkaban that broke people. Grief and guilt were more oppressive than even the dementors. At least for Sirius, he had known that he was innocent. There had been a purpose for his continued existence: Get the Rat. Get Harry. For Remus, it seemed as if he'd had nothing to keep him going over the years.

After a moment of silence, Sirius finally let Remus ease him back onto the couch. He had to admit that the wolf was accurate enough about his body. There was an ache in his bones that he didn't think would ever go away entirely, but it was nothing compared to the gaping wound in his mind and heart, "It's in the past now, isn't it?" The shaggy haired man muttered, avoiding Remus's gaze. Forgiveness must be earned, and Sirius wasn't sure he'd ever actually be able to let go of this discretion completely, as much as it pained him to realize. Some mistakes simply could not be fixed, "Where is Harry? If you don't have him, who does?"

Remus forced himself away from Sirius's side, his chest feeling as if something very sharp and hot had been shoved through it. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it had been worse than this. At least the other man wasn't shutting him out completely. At the question, he lifted a hand to his head, letting out another very long breath. Sirius wasn't going to like his answer.

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><p><em>Next Chapter: Dumbledore has been ignoring the signs, and a desperate mother will do anything to make sure her son is safe.<em>


	2. The Truth

AN: I have to scurry off to work, so this hasn't been edited, but I wanted to get it up. I will go over it as soon as I get home, but I hope you like this chapter, and I really appreciate the reviews, follows, and favorites! Happy Reading!

TW: Child Abuse

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.

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><p>"All families have their secrets, most people would never know them, but they know there are spaces, gaps where the answers should be, where someone should have sat, where someone used to be. A name that is never uttered, or uttered just once and never again. We all have our secrets."<p>

― Cecelia Ahern, _The Book of Tomorrow_

_July 30th, 1986_

Sometimes, in our own pride or sensibility, or perhaps the simple desire to believe we have done the right thing, it is possible to miss facts looking us right in the face. Albus Dumbledore was not a fool by any means. In fact, most would argue that he was easily the brightest mind of an age. He could not help but disagree in the current situation. Sitting behind his desk, the old wizard had his hands on the third letter this month from Petunia Dursley. His denials were starting to sound false even within his own mind as he reread the correspondence sent three days prior.

_Dumbledore,_

_I know you are reading these! I cannot make it more clear that the boy does not belong here! He is causing upset in my household that I simply cannot stand by and watch any longer. He will never belong here, and it is out of love for my sister that I implore you to fix this problem for the sake of everyone involved. I did not know it would be this incredibly challenging for my husband to accept. My own son is a challenge enough, and this extra stress is too much. If you do not find other arrangements, I will be forced to do so on my own._

_Petunia Evans Dursely._

Before he had let himself truly read the letter, or inquire farther, the ancient man had responded without thought.

_Mrs. Dursely,_

Although it troubles me that you are having so much trouble with your nephew, we have spoken before about the fact that it is your blood that keeps him safe. There is no other arrangement that will protect both your family and young Harry safe, if the enemies of your sister should ever return to power. I will see, perhaps, about a short reprieve for your family? I know that Arabella Figg would be more than glad to take him off of your hands for a few days. I would be glad to make those arrangements for you.

_Looking forward to hearing back from you,  
><em> _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Order of Merlin, First Class._

The doubt had sunk in as he had watched the owl fly away. What in heaven's name would prompt her to send him so many messages at once? Of course, the added fact that Arabella had been owling him constantly was not lost on him. This had lead him to gathering the many files on his desk, after he had taken care of the matter of Sirius Black.

Slender fingers flipped through the file again, leaving the twinkle in his eyes dimmed and the wrinkles on his face more defined. Flicking his wand, he sent his patronus off to bring Severus Snape to his office. If he trusted anyone to ease or confirm his worries, it would be Severus. He only hoped he wasn't too busy with his daughter. When the door burst open only a few seconds later, Albus glanced up through his half mooned spectacles, surprised to find himself face to face with yet another person who had depended upon him, and he had let down.

Sirius Black had cleaned himself up in the past five days. Already, the color of his skin had returned to a healthier shade. His hair had been trimmed nicely and cleaned, leaving soft waves to frame a smooth jaw. His eyes however, were bleak and angry pools of dark brown, "I have done everything you've asked me to do, Dumbledore. I have cleaned up. Remus and I have been looking at apartments, and I have gone to the ministry so many times my fucking legs are going to fall off. I want to see Harry. I don't _care_ if he has to go back to the muggles afterward, but I want to see him." Sirius was on a tangent, and Dumbledore sighed.

"If you would calm down for a moment, Sirius, we can discuss the possibility-" He began, only to be cut off by the entrance of Remus Lupin. Of course, Remus handled himself much better than Sirius at the given moment, but Albus couldn't help but be amused by the stubborn set of the younger man's brow and jaw. There was no doubt that the two had planned to gang up on him.

"I don't want to discuss," Sirius snapped, "I want you to tell me the damn address, so I can see my godson." Little did the animagus realize that Albus was very close to letting him do just that. He turned to Remus, gesturing helplessly, "Tell him, Remus. Tell him I genuinely don't plan to kidnap him." _Yet._

"Albus, I don't see the harm in letting Harry come to visit," Remus conceded, "For his birthday, and the fact that neither of us have seen or heard about him in five years." Glancing over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps, Remus stood aside for the Head of Slytherin house.

"You called for me, Headmaster?" Severus drawled, completely ignoring the two other angry men in the office with him. Albus met his gaze, and without a word, handed up the file he'd been reading. Severus raised an eyebrow, making no comment and ignoring the angry huffing of the dog. He had absolutely no idea what was in the file, or what it concerned, but the moment he opened it, his stomach filled with dread. There, staring up at him, were Lily Evan's green eyes gazing up at him. Only the eyes were dimmed and in the head of a small boy who could have looked like James Potter were it not for the dark bruising across his cheek and the shadows under his eyes. The writing under the image claimed that the child was four in the picture, but he looked no bigger than a toddler. His arm was in a cast, and, as he read on, Severus found that there were more injuries than could be seen in the image.

Flipping past the picture, he didn't dare raise his gaze to Dumbledore, sure that he would see the rage boiling in their jet black depths. The second page was about the CPS report. There wasn't enough evidence, and the story that the boy had fallen from the tree out back had held up. Bullshit. Severus didn't need to see anymore. With precise movements, he rested the file on the desk again, turning his gaze to Dumbledore, wordless condemnation communicated in a single glance, "Are you ready to leave, Black?" He suddenly snapped, turning to glare at Sirius.

Taken aback, the other man sneered, "What's it to you, Snape?" His eyes darted to the file, almost curious, "I'm not leaving until Albus tells me where my Godson-"

"We're going to get Potter, so if you would follow me." Without a word to Albus, Snape turned to the door, robes billowing out behind him, "Albus, if you would make sure that Trix is in bed if I am not back before nine." Considering the fact that it was hardly afternoon, he doubted it would be necessary.

Sharing a startled glance with Remus, and wondering who the hell Trix was, Sirius bolted after the dark wizard, leaving Dumbledore alone in his office to come to terms with his guilt.

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><p><em>Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off. <em>The cute little mantra was playing through Harry's mind as he struggled to wash the kitchen floor on his hands and knees, something sharp prodding his lungs each and every time he breathed, but the little boy knew it would only get worse if he didn't get all of his chores done by the time Uncle Vernon woke up from his nap. It was less time than usual, because his Uncle had taken the day off of work just to make sure that Harry didn't step a toe out of line. Apparently, he'd been extra bad again, because the nice people in the fancy suits had showed up at the door again, asking about him. Uncle Vernon had, of course, gotten them to go away after showing them 'Harry's' drawings that he'd hung up in the hallway.

A small rumbling filled the room, and for a moment, the soon-to-be six year old was very confused as to where it was coming from, but then he realized his belly was actually growling, "Shh," he scolded his body. There was a point that he got to, where his body stopped reacting to being hungry, but Aunt Petunia had been sneaking him crackers and bread over the last few nights, so his tummy wanted more. It was all really confusing to Harry, who sometimes wondered why Dudley was allowed to have seconds and thirds when Harry wasn't even allowed firsts.

Of course, Harry knew the answer when he thought about it. Dudley got good things because he was a good boy, and his parents loved him very much. Harry was a bad 'freak' child, whose stupid parents died in a car wreck, and left him to burden Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He'd been told so often enough, and when you're five-going-on-six, you trusted what had literally been beaten into your brain.

His thoughts were broken by a knock on the door, and he moved so quickly he knocked over his bucket of water. Black dots danced around his vision as panic flooded his every sense, numbing the pain in his small body. Oh, no, oh no. He'd spilled the water. Frantically, he started to try and mop it up with his already soaked shirt, tears streaming down his cheeks. Uncle Vernon wasn't going to be happy. He wasn't going to be happy at all.

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><p>"If you don't stop shifting like an idiot, I will curse you," Snape snapped at Sirius as he waited on the stoop of the obscenely muggle house. He didn't care that Remus put an easing hand on Sirius's shoulder to hold him still. It was about bloody time. Tension rolled off of his body in waves, and the horse like woman who answered the door didn't put him at ease in the least, "Petunia," he greeted, voice like ice. There was a disturbing amount of relief on her face when she saw who it was.<p>

"You." She gasped, opening the door, "You're here to-"

"Petunia, who's at the door?" A male voice called from the top of the steps, voice weary. It was only a few moments later that he stood behind his wife, beady eyes narrowing as he took in the appearance of the three men on his stoop, "You lot, eh? Go away, we don't want the neighbors to think we let freaks on our stoop."

Sirius growled, but Snape shot him a glare of warning before turning back to the oaf of a man, "We're here for the boy. We'll be off of your porch as soon as you let us see him." It was no struggle to keep himself calm as he looked at Vernon Dursely, but that didn't stop the sneer of disgust that curled up on his lip when he spoke next, "Trust me, we have no interest to be in your home."

Vernon's face was going through a barrage of colors and shapes as he opened his mouth, a hand on Petunia's shoulder, "The boy is at school, so maybe you lot haven't heard of phoning ahead before you come for a visit. Regardless, I made it very clear when we took that boy in that we wouldn't be putting up with any freakyness here, which means your lot nee-"

"Except Harry isn't at school," Sirius snarled, stepping up beside Snape, wand out and pointing at the man. His eyes were burning, "Where is my Godson? Don't think I won't curse your fa-"

"Vernon, stop," Petunia's voice seemed less shrill, less obnoxious, "This has gone on long enough. I asked them to come." Her nose was in the air, everything about her body language reading disgust, but Snape wondered just who she was disgusted with, "He's in the kitchen, please come in quickly before the neighbors see." She pushed her husband aside, ushering the three men into the house.

Snape met her gaze, offering the smallest of nods before brushing past, Sirius threatening to pass him if he didn't keep moving. From behind him, he heard Remus asking where Harry's room was, but he stopped hearing the moment he stepped into the disgustingly clean kitchen with a damp floor. His stomach tightened, "Boy?"

Sirius on the other hand, who hadn't seen the files, was confused by the entire situation. At least until he heard a small sound coming from the pantry. It sounded like a wounded animal, but it couldn't have been, because there was a phrase mixed between the small whimpers.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Just the same small, innocent words laced together brought tears rushing to the dog-man's face. Glancing toward his childhood nemesis, he quickly moved toward the cupboard, "Harry?" He murmured, breathing picking up at the sight that befell him, "Oh, Harry," he murmured, reaching out to the soaking wet child hiding under his shirt.

"No!" The little boy pleaded, trying to disappear farther into the cupboard, "I cleaned it up, Uncle Vernon. I cleaned it up. I'm sorry." His words were too crisp for that of a five year old, each sharp and clear sound uttered a knife in Snape's gut. This was Lily's child, and they had all failed him.

"You aren't in trouble, Harry. My name is Sirius," Sirius tried desperately to get Harry to come a bit farther out. Snape wanted to walk out of the room and curse the entire family for doing this to a child. Memories of his own abusive childhood plagued him as Sirius continued to try and coax little Harry out of the corner. A green eye peaked out, gazing at them in fear.

Severus was hardly aware of the shouting from the other room, part of his mind impressed that the soft spoken werewolf knew that sort of language, but he made sure his main focus was on Harry, "Po- Harry," He quickly corrected himself, knowing that his hatred of the boy's father had no place here, "Come out here." His voice was still that same, low, forceful volume that he seldom changed. He almost regretted using it when the abused child flinched, but then he was standing up, swaying slightly and stumbling toward the kitchen.

"We aren't going to hurt you, Harry," Sirius murmured, kneeling down beside the frightened child. Harry's eyes, Snape noted, were locked on the ground. There was going to be a lot of healing needed, but if he was anything like his mother, he would manage, and Severus couldn't doubt that. The moment Sirius reached out, Harry flinched and braced himself, ready for a blow. Merlin, how often was this child beaten?

"Sirius," Snape murmured, catching both the other man and himself off guard by the use of his first name, "Step into the hall and send the dog in." He locked eyes with Sirius, who was confused at first, but then nodded, standing and disappearing into the other room, "Petunia!" Snape called, tempted to snicker as the muggles in the other room screamed, most likely at the fact that a man had just turned into a dog in their front hall. A moment later, Padfoot came plodding in, smearing muddy prints all over the floor and moving to Harry.

The little boy looked at the dog for a moment, glancing up at Snape, "We aren't s'posed to have puppies in here," he whispered, eyes flicking toward the door, "Uncle Vernon hates puppies." That didn't stop his little hands from reaching out and stroking Sirius's back, "Dudley wanted one for a long time," Harry mumbled, "But when he got it, he got angry at it and kicked it dow-" His eyes widened as he realized what he'd been saying and he shut up quickly, focusing on petting the dog.

It was of no concern to Severus, he was too busy listening to the breathless way the boy spoke. He wasn't aware when he'd decided to kneel, but he was suddenly at eye level with the child, "Does it hurt to breath, Harry?" He asked softly as Sirius nuzzled against Harry's hand. He didn't even glance up when Petunia came stomping in.

"What are you waiting for?!" She hissed, "Take him, before my husband tries to stop you!" Snape stood slowly, turning ice cold eyes to the woman. Disgust showed plainly on his face, "You need to tell him to come with us, or he's going to fight because you and your husband hav-" Taking a calming breath, he knelt back down beside the boy and the dog, "Harry, you are going to come with us."

Harry's head shot up in surprise. He hadn't answered the question about it being hard to breathe, knowing that Uncle Vernon wouldn't want him to, but he glanced up at his Aunt, who gave a sharp nod, "Okay," he whispered, "Can we bring the dog?"

Severus gave a cold chuckle, "I think you're going to find that the dog is impossible to get rid of." It was then that a red faced Remus came storming into the kitchen, his wand still out.

"I was going to get his things, but apparently, he _has no things,_" He raged, before blinking down at the scene before him, "Oh Merlin," he mumbled.

Severus could see that this was too much for the little boy, who was clinging to the dog, "Was I bad, Aunt Petunia? Was a worse then usual? Are these the people from the Orphanage who feed kids to the rats? I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia! I'll be better! I'll be a good boy! Don't send me away!" Snape raised his wand, gently tapping the fretting child on the head. He slumped right into the potion master's arms.

Without delay, Severus stood, sneering openly at Petunia, "This will _not_ be the last time you hear from us." For now, though, they needed to take care of Harry. Vengeance would come later.

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><p><em>Next Chapter: Harry begins the healing process and makes a new friend, meanwhile, Sirius, Remus, and Severus are out for blood.<em>


End file.
